Moving Neutral (26 page)

But I wasn’t part of Moving Neutral, and the audience knew that as well as I did. I looked out at the rows of blank faces staring back at me.

So, I said, cracking a smile. This is a weird night.

I heard someone in the audience laugh, and the girl in the front row smiled more brightly. I looked down, and my hand on the microphone had stopped shaking.

Blake started the next song in the set, one with a slower pace that Madison and I used to request at every single school dance, even though the deejay never knew who Moving Neutral was and usually played Maroon 5 instead. I started to sing, Blake watching me with a barely suppressed smile.

I felt my body slowly start to calm down. For a second, I actually felt like I was enjoying myself.

You guys know the words, I said to the audience when we got to the chorus, and everyone joined in, their voices melting together, echoing off the high ceilings of the stage, filling the room with the sweet, perfect sound of one of my favorite songs, like it was coming from everywhere.

This time, at the end of the song, the audience applauded. For a second it felt as if I wasn’t some poor substitute for April, but they actually wanted to hear me. It was as if I could hear each person clapping, my body swelling with relief that I hadn’t ruined the show like Derek had thought, that the audience was still enjoying it, that the show could go on, even with Casey Snow.

The songs passed in a heartbeat, making me wish the night would never end. Not a single person left after that first song, and as the applause died down towards the end of the set, I could hear the smiling girl in the front cheering my name.

When we finished the final song and walked offstage, I listened and listened, waiting for the clapping to stop. But they kept going. I could hear my name and Blake’s reverberating through the space, overlapping.

We stood backstage, at the point where the band would usually run back out for the encore, looking at each other as if no one was sure what to do.

Blake nudged me toward the curtain. Come on, he said, this is the surprise.

My surprise was that people hadn’t booed me offstage before the encore?

But I walked back out, and people started to cheer -- to really cheer, as if I they actually wanted to see me come back onstage. As if I were April.

And when Blake started to play, I suddenly realized what he had meant. The opening notes -- picked out with quick fingers in the theater’s sudden silence -- were the start of my favorite song, the one Moving Neutral had never played in shows, but Blake had played for me, once, weeks ago, in the hotel room in Chicago.

The crowd cheered louder as Sophie came in with the drums, and I heard my voice sailing above all of it, like April, but softer, gentler, different.

All or nothing, I thought. It could have been my anthem, this summer, but for tonight, I had it all. My last breath hovered in the air around us as the song ended, a moment of silence that seemed to last an eternity, and then clapping, cheering, whistling, and it was over, and I had done it.

You were amazing, Sophie yelled, clinging to my arm and jumping up and down at the same time, giddy with relief and excitement.

You did great, Casey, Jesse added, grinning widely.

Maybe you can sing backup on our next album or something, Sophie said, plopping her body down onto one of the couches and giving Blake an excited look.

Right, I thought to myself. April would love that. I tried to push the thought of her out of my mind, not willing to let my fear of April’s reaction spoil the night.

Blake was leaning against one of the walls on the far side of the room, and I met his eyes with a nervous smile. I knew you’d be great, he said, looking like he couldn’t take his eyes off me. Is there anything you can’t do?

I laughed out loud. Pack for college? I suggested. Call my parents? Speak Dutch?

She has a point, Jesse agreed. Casey’s a good singer, but she’s way too small to play rugby. He laughed at his own joke, not seeming to mind that no one else did.

Blake moved over to the couch I was sitting on. Don’t you guys have somewhere to be? He looked down at Jesse and Sophie, arching one eyebrow.

Nope, Jesse grinned.

Nope, Sophie looked at Blake with a devious expression. Oh, what? You want some privacy? She looked at him, her eyes wide and mock-innocent. Not a chance. Casey’s part of the band now.

I turned to Blake, trying to look at Sophie disapprovingly. Why don’t we go grab a coffee or something? I suggested.

Blake sighed in exasperation. Okay, he said. There’s a place next door that should still be open. He turned to Sophie and Jesse. You guys brainstorm what we’re doing tonight to celebrate, okay?

Jesse opened his mouth to say something, but I took Blake’s hand and pulled him out of the green room, laughter echoing in the hallway behind us.

We walked down the hall to the door leading out to the parking lot, and Blake slipped his signature hoodie over his head.

We’re going to need to get you some sunglasses or something, he grinned, ruffling my hair with one hand and pulling me closer to him.

Casey-- Derek’s voice behind me stopped us in our tracks.

I turned around reluctantly -- we’d all agreed that the show had gone well, and I didn’t want Derek to ruin my mood by telling us it had been a giant mistake. Or by reminding us how angry the real lead singer of the band was going to be.

Listen, he said, his voice sounding less certain than it had a moment before. You know why I didn’t want you guys to do this, and nothing has changed, his face seemed to soften, and he held something out to me. They couldn’t record the DVD without April, you know that. But the guy from the production company stayed for the show, and he asked me to give this to you.

I looked down at a business card in his outstretched hand, a logo stamped across the top in gray lettering. I took it from him, confused.

Anyway, Derek said. He said for you to call him the next time you’re in L.A.

I looked down at the card, as if wondering what to do with it. Slipping it into the clutch I’d borrowed from Sophie, I looked up at Derek. Thanks.

He turned to go, and then stopped for a second. Casey-- he said, his voice sounding quiet in the empty hallway. You were really great up there.

I felt my face break into a smile, and nodded to him. Then Blake’s hand was on my back, guiding me out the door and into the warm California air.

He led me through the parking lot, cutting across a tree-lined barrier to get to the coffee shop next door without venturing onto the sidewalk. I could see fans milling around outside the front door to the concert venue, but no one seemed to notice us leave through the back.

We got in line, and I felt in Sophie’s clutch for my wallet, figuring that, given how we’d met, I had owed Blake a cup of coffee for quite some time. When we got up to the front of the line, Blake ordered something chocolate-y and whipped-cream topped for me, as if he’d read my mind. And a black coffee for him. I thought again to that first night, my fear that he would think I was unsophisticated based on what kind of coffee I was drinking. Now he knew me so well he could order it for me by heart.

We found a table in a corner of the shop, partly behind the counter so that the people standing nearby couldn’t see Blake. He pulled down his hood, and grasped my hands across the table.

You know, he said. I think you might be the most amazing girl I’ve ever met.

I smiled, looking down at both our hands. I’d thought Blake was amazing way before we’d actually met -- not that I was about to bring that up now.

I’ve been thinking, he said, about what’s going to happen in the fall, when you go back to school.

I resisted the urge to tell him that the fall was coming in about two weeks. Columbia started midway through August. And?

I mean, I don’t know, he said. But I thought maybe, if you want, he looked into my eyes, making my stomach flutter. You could come back, like for a few weekends? I know it’s not much, but there are dozens of flights from New York to Los Angeles, and if you don’t have Friday classes —

It was what I’d been waiting for Blake to say, ever since we’d gotten to L.A. Ever since I’d realized the summer had to end.

Yeah, I said, trying not to show my relief. That could work.

It’s a much quicker trip to cross the country when you don’t have to do it by bus, Blake grinned.

I liked the bus, I smiled, looking down at the table and my untouched drink. I scooped some of the whipped cream up with a straw and lifted it to my mouth, biting the end.

You really were amazing tonight.

I smiled, breaking away from his eyes and looking around the coffee shop, which was nothing like the one where Blake and I had met. That one was typical New York, with battered, comfy couches and tiny, crowded tables. This felt more like a bar, with dim lights, loud music and rows of flavored syrups where the liquor bottles otherwise would have been.

I felt someone tap my shoulder, and turned around to see the girl who’d been sitting in the front row, standing behind me and holding out a ticket.

Tonight, a girl wanting Blake’s autograph didn’t bother me one bit.

Hey, I said, smiling at her. I took the ticket and the pen out of her hand, pushing it across the table to Blake for him to sign. Thanks for coming to the show, I said.

Oh-- the girl hesitated, reaching out for the ticket as if to take it back. Blake and I looked at each other, puzzled.

Do you want me to make it out to someone? he asked, looking at the girl with a confused expression.

Actually, she looked down, twirling the bottom of her shirt in her fingers. She spoke so quietly that I could barely hear it over the music, and then finally she looked back up at me. I was hoping you could sign it, Casey.

I just barely avoided snorting whipped cream all over our table, and Blake looked at me with barely concealed laughter. Stunned, I uncapped the pen and scrawled my signature on the ticket stub, blowing on it to dry the ink before handing it back to her.

Blake’s is probably worth a lot more on Ebay, I said to the girl, who smiled back.

For now, she said, winking at me as she turned and walked away.

You should see your face right now, Blake said, his shoulders still shaking. You’re incredible, Casey. Why is it everyone seems to see that except you?

I rolled my eyes, and took a big sip from my drink to hide a smile. Come on, I said. We should get back -- I can’t wait to see where Jesse wants to go to celebrate.

Jesse had chosen a party in the Pacific Palisades, thrown by some well-known talent agent who I had never heard of, but who had represented his mom back in the nineties and gotten her a role on a sitcom that had lasted a few years. Blake and Sophie looked impressed when they heard the name of the host, and I climbed into Jesse’s SUV behind them, pleased that there weren’t any photographers waiting at the back exit for us to leave the concert. Maybe Derek was wrong -- maybe the fact that I had taken April’s place wouldn’t get any publicity at all.

Jesse pulled out of the parking lot, glancing down at his cell phone with one hand as we stopped at a traffic light. I have a new text, he said to Blake, tossing the phone into the backseat. Can you check it?

Blake hit a button on the phone and read out loud. Sorry about the show. You going to PP? Meet you there. XX A.

Seriously? Jesse said. She missed the concert, but she’s coming to the party?

I tried to be angry too, but April missing this show was probably the coolest thing that had ever happened to me. That being said, I wasn’t exactly excited to face her an hour after taking her place onstage.

I tried to push the thought out of my mind. Nothing was going to dampen my mood tonight. I snuggled closer to Blake in the backseat of the SUV, resting my head on his shoulder and listening to the radio on low.

Twenty minutes later, Jesse turned into a driveway, hitting a button and giving our names over the intercom. The gate swung open, and we pulled up a sloped driveway, towards the biggest house I’d ever seen. White columns stretched up three stories, and the cars parked in the driveway were probably more expensive than my college tuition. For all four years.

Blake squeezed my hand as we climbed out of the backseat, lifting me off the high step and setting me down on the ground like I didn’t weigh a thing.

We walked up the rest of the driveway together, the music from the party drifting down to us through the warm night air.

An hour later, I sat with Sophie at the edge of an infinity pool in the back yard. We had taken off our shoes and were dangling our feet into the water, a mostly finished bottle of champagne on the ledge next to us. Tables of tan men and women were scattered all over the patio, talking loudly to be heard over the music. The night was breezy and warm, and for the first time since we had gotten to Los Angeles, I felt like I fit in.

I’m going to go get a glass of water, I said, pulling my shoes back on and walking in the direction of the house. Sophie smiled at me as I left, and went back to talking with the associate or assistant producer who had been trying to get her phone number for the last fifteen or so minutes.